1212

One thousand two hundred and twelve. That was how many days ago since I last had water on my tongue. 

I don’t remember the exact time when it all started but no one could predict what was to come. 

It was a record hot day for a Tuesday morning and the sun beamed down on us. The neighborhood kids played hopscotch on the sidewalk. Mother Mae, who lived next door to my parent’s house, had to run downtown to her job at Penny's, a clothing store. She worked there part time ever since Ed, her husband, hurt his leg while at the factory.

Mother Mae loved kids and kids loved her. So much so that she welcomed any kid who needed a place to stay morning, noon, and night. 

I saw Mother Mae's signature hot pink outfit complete with the hat before I heard what she said. She wanted me to watch the neighborhood kids while she was gone. I was happy to help especially since she offered money. I was saving every cent I had towards college.

I hooked up the hose to the water slide I found in my garage and the kids rushed over to play in the water. Ten minutes later, the kids happily slide down the water slide.

I went inside to make freshly squeezed lemonade from the lemons my father grew in the backyard. I finished the lemonade when I heard one of the kids yell my name, “Hey, Monica!” 

I ran outside to see the sprinklers shut off across the street one by one. The water coming out of the hose slowed to a dribble and then nothing. Mother’s Mae sprinkler was the last to shut off.

“I don’t know how that happened,” I shook my head, “Don’t touch the hose, I'll be right back.”

I ran inside to call my parents when the news headline caught my eye, WATER GONE EVERYWHERE. 

From that day on every window curtain on every window house on Sutter block was drawn tight. The first few days were at a standstill. It was as if time stopped. We huddled in the living room and stared at the TV screen waiting for updates. Dad got laid off from work, Mom’s business closed, and school shut down. The three of us waited for things to go back to normal. And it never did. 

Weeks passed and that’s when it got really bad. Time sped up. Shelves at grocery stores stayed empty. People attacked warehouses just to get water. No showers. No rain. No drinkable water. 

Mother Mae and Ed stayed with us when break ins started around the neighborhood. Fear and desperation spread over the town like a disease that no one could contain. The police stopped 911 calls as there were not enough resources to help anyone, and crime grew overnight. We guarded the water like it was precious treasure. Dad and I took shifts watching outside to make sure no one broke in. We created to-go bags and hid them under our beds. Dad gave me purification tablets and told me to show no one and keep it on me at all times. Water was running low and sooner or later we would run out altogether.

One thousand one hundred and eighty days is when I saw the military tanks. That was the day I thought it would all be over. But it was just the beginning. Raids happened left and right breaking into houses to steal whatever valuables they had. Especially water.

Mother Mae saw our house on fire before we did. We were all coming home from Sally’s two streets down. Mrs. Sally turned her house into a soup kitchen for all those who needed meals. And we were all in need of a meal.

I turned to run inside but two strong hands stopped me. “But Dad the bags…”

“Aren’t worth your life, Mon. As long as we have each other we’ll be okay. You have the tablets I gave you?”

“Yes,” I nodded solemnly. Mother Mae was crying hysterically as Ed was trying to calm her down. Mom put her arm around Mother Mae’s shoulder as she talked on the phone.

Dad leaned in and looked over both of his shoulders, “You still have the map, right? And the compass.”

I pat the small bag I carry underneath my clothes, “Yep.”

“Good, if anything happens you have to follow the place on the map. You’ll be safe there.”

“But Dad how do you kn-

“You’ll be safe. Trust me, Monica. Follow the map.” 

Those were the last words I remembered my father told me. An hour later we put together tents to sleep outside. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a flash before an explosion. Screams everywhere, people shoving each other. I kept falling down when a hand extended down to me. I grabbed what I thought was my mother’s hand but ended up being Jamie Lee. Jamie and I grew up together. Soccer practice. Church. Second grade. Third grade. Middle school. High school. She lived three doors down with her mother and younger brother Travis.

“My parents, I have to go back.”

“They’re gone,” Jamie screamed over the chaos, “Come on we have to keep moving.”

I looked back at my house. The roof half collapsed, the lawn singed, and the to-go bags left under my bed. The bedroom I redecorated over the course of fifteen years when we first moved in. There was a stain on the hardwood floor in the corner where Dad accidentally knocked over a can of paint after moving my bed. Markings on my door from Mom measuring my height. Fifteen years gone in a second as I saw for a second time flames burst through the windows. This time burning it down for good.

We ran. All night long we didn’t dare stop to check to see if anyone followed us. As soon as we reached the outskirts of the neighboring town we collapsed on the grass. The morning sun came up. 

We took turns guarding each other as we napped. Jamie handed me a butcher knife and she had a similar one along with a taser, a can of hairspray, a lighter, and a first aid kit.

I pulled out the map, “We have to go here,” I pointed to a blue circle. From that day on Jamie and I had each other’s back.

“We’re almost empty,” Jamie held up the water pack. I showed her the purification tablets I had.

We reached the town and walked through what looked like what was left of an amusement park. A broken-down cowboy boot ride played “Giddy-up Cowboy” over and over again.

A man with a shotgun sat on the porch of a restaurant. I grabbed Jamie’s arm as we slowly backed away.

“Don’t worry, this ain’t for you,” The man said out loud.

Curiosity getting the better of me and I approached him. “What’s it for?”

He stared at me for a minute before he answered, “Blood drinkers,” he replied. 

One thousand two hundred and twelve days ago water went out. And one thousand one hundred and 76 days ago I became what they call a “blood drinker.” We all did to survive. 

And I’ll stop at nothing to get to the town on the map my father gave to me. Now I know it's the last place on earth with sustainable water. And it’s our only hope.